She started to answer his question, hesitated, then began again. “I left before you moved to the bed.” She paused. “I don’t think I could tell you what I saw. But I could show you?” She sent a questioning gaze toward Ian’s face and reached with a none-too-steady hand for his hose. Before she could begin on the laces, Ian stopped her hand.
He had a decision to make. He could tell her the truth, that nothing had happened between himself and Tullia that afternoon, but he decided against it. Ian had spent the entire expensive afternoon lying alongside Venice’s most famous courtesan, consumed with fantasies about Bianca. Now, miraculously, he was being given the opportunity to enact them exactly as he had imagined them. He saw no reason to spoil his immense good fortune. Besides, he could not let her think she had any power over his thoughts.
When Ian spoke, he found he had trouble controlling his voice. “If we are to do this properly, you must undress. Tullia was nude, if I remember correctly.”
This time he removed Bianca’s clothes himself, taking care with each detail. He untied the laces of her cream bodice and pushed the garment off her shoulders onto the floor. He unhooked her modest petticoat, taking advantage of the opportunity to run his hands down her silk-stockinged thighs. Bianca heard him make a noise, something between a low moan and a chuckle, but she was concentrating too hard on not letting her knees turn to polenta to be able to accurately identify it. The feel of his hands on her body, sliding over it, undressing her, triggered the same spirally sensation of heat as it had the previous day. It grew more intense when, asking her to raise her arms, he lifted her light underdress off over her head, pausing to caress each of her lovely breasts. Finally her stockings came off and she stood before him, again, completely nude.
As Ian stood back and assessed her from a distance, smitten by the beauty he saw before him but trying his hardest to feign cold detachment, an irresistibly arousing image entered his mind. “As I recall, Tullia was wearing jewels. Pearls, I believe.”
“And emeralds,” Bianca added incautiously, wondering where this was going.
Ian cleared his throat, surprised by the wave of guilt that washed over him when she mentioned his extravagant payment. “Yes, well. If you will promise to stay here for a few moments, I think I know where there is a bauble you can wear.”
Before Bianca could protest, Ian was out the door. Her first thought was that she had never before spent so much time alone and naked as she had with this strange man to whom she was betrothed. That turned her mind to the previous night, and she wondered if he was actually going to come back or if this was simply a more subtle form of abandonment. She pushed that unpleasant possibility aside by concentrating on what she had seen in Tullia’s apartment that day. She was nervous about knowing what to do or doing something wrong or looking foolish or…but mostly she was excited.
She laid herself on the thick sheepskin by the fire and closed her eyes, picturing Ian’s stunning physique as it had been revealed to her through Tullia’s armoire. She recalled how sleek he had looked as Tullia undressed him, the intimate smile he had smiled when Tullia touched him, and she grew aroused at the prospect of inspiring similar responses in him. Momentarily she cursed herself for leaving so early, for not watching so she would learn what came after, but she found the idea of discovering the unknown excited her even more. This was, she told herself hastily, a completely academic inquiry. It had nothing whatsoever to do with Ian Foscari.
Having reassured herself on that point, she remembered something she had been curious about that day, and reached down to touch herself between her legs. Many of the women she helped had told her about a “special place,” but she had never been able to find it on her body. At first she felt nothing, but then sliding her hand toward her belly, she found a point of such exquisite tenderness she couldn’t decide if she was feeling pleasure or pain when she touched it. She stroked it again and decided for pleasure. She was so engrossed in this research that she did not hear it when the door opened and Ian reentered the room.
Nothing could have prepared him for the jolt of arousal that he felt as he walked in and saw her lying before the fire, touching herself. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, her back arched very slightly. He approached as silently as possible, not wanting to disturb her, and kneeled beside her.
“May I?” he asked, moving her hand aside and replacing it with his own. He had intended to come back and proceed to enact his fantasies of the afternoon, but the prospect of touching her like that was unforgoable. He was looking down at her when her eyes fluttered open. Their gazes met as he continued to caress her delicate nub, making gentle circles while rubbing it between his forefinger and thumb. He was still watching her when her eyes grew large with surprise and, as she emitted a long, low sigh in which he flattered himself that he heard, “Oh, Ian,” he brought her to a climax. Then he stretched out alongside her and pulled her close to him.
Bianca was suffused with a joy she had never dreamt of. Her body still trembling from her first climax, she was being held tightly in the arms of the man who had given it to her. She felt warm and free and very very relaxed. She wasn’t even sure if she could move.
“My lord?” she ventured plaintively.
“Yes, carissima?” For the first time he spoke the term of endearment without sarcasm.
“Is it always like that?”
Ian was nonplussed. She could not possibly be that innocent.
“Isn’t it always like that for you?”
There was a moment’s hesitation while she decided whether to answer truthfully or to pretend to more experience than she had. “I don’t know, I have nothing to compare it to.” She tried to sit up but he held her close to his chest. Instead, her eyes sought his. “Will you teach me about making love?”
Ian regarded her for some time. Her question went well with his plan, but for some reason he was reluctant to say yes on those grounds alone. Having watched her come to her first climax and being the likely recipient of her virginity, he felt suddenly protective of her. Not that he did not want to bed her, that was still high on his list, but somehow the bit about patriotic honor and duty had less and less appeal. Some part of him questioned his other part’s motives, and it began to look as if the two sides would be embroiled in a lengthy battle, so he decided to ignore them.
“Yes,” Ian answered finally, standing and pulling her up with him, “as long as you promise to be a good pupil. You can start by donning this.”
At first Bianca did not believe her eyes, but what he was holding out to her could be nothing other than the famous Foscari topaz. It was an immense stone, surrounded by twenty-four diamonds, which dangled from a simple wrought-gold chain. When Bianca moved closer to protest, Ian clasped it around her neck. The stone hung perfectly in the valley between her two breasts, like an irresistibly inviting beacon. Ian pulled away and cast a discerning eye on her, deciding that the stone became her even better than he had imagined. Perhaps even too well, he thought, as he felt his self-discipline becoming eclipsed by his arousal. Not entirely cognizant of his actions, Ian reached out and took her nipple between his fingers, as he had wanted to do the previous night and as he had fantasized about all day. He bent his mouth toward her breast and suckled at it, delighting as much in its feel in his mouth as in the small noises emanating from Bianca. Her sheer pleasure at their physical contact brought his arousal near the breaking point.
He moved his head back and began to undress. She stood before him, not wanting to blink for fear of missing something, as he peeled off first his linen shirt, then his deerskin hose. When he was completely unclad, she bent down on her knees, nervous yet eager to resume what she thought was their reenactment, but he gently pushed her down onto the rug.
“The best part comes after that,” he explained, recollecting his fantasy and stretching out beside her. They were each lying on their sides, facing each oth
er, his aroused shaft rubbing provocatively along her thigh. He was trying to decide whether to take her on the bottom or on the top, when he was assailed, again, with a pang of guilt. He stopped and tilted her head up to meet his eyes.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked her, serious.
By way of an answer, she reached out to hold his aroused shaft. At the first touch of her timid fingers, Ian realized that he was closer to the breaking point than he had imagined. Then she grew more daring, moving her hand along the length of his smooth organ, running her fingers along every curve and indent, delighting in the feel of it. Ian groaned and gritted his teeth, not wanting to stop her delicate exploration but also not wanting to forgo what was still to come. But then she spoke, quiet words, looking right into his eyes, and he knew he could wait no longer.
“Please, Ian. Please make love to me.”
He slid his hand back between her thighs and found her, if anything, hotter and wetter than before. He let one finger linger on her delicate pearl of flesh while he slid another inside of her. She was tight, impossibly tight, and he prayed for reserves of willpower to hold himself in check so he would not hurt her. He pushed her onto her back and moved astride her. Bianca felt his divine touch again, and then more profoundly when he slipped something inside her. That wasn’t so bad, she thought to herself, making a mental note to include the new information in her book, when suddenly the something was replaced by a bigger something, pressing against and into her. She looked up at Ian, to make sure everything was okay, but his face was constricted with the effort of his restraint. Instinctively, she pushed her hips up to meet his and felt the tightness ease, her body open, and a thrilling feeling of jointure. She had never been this close to another person before. Ian’s eyes were open now, looking down at her as their bodies moved together. Just before he reached his release, he leaned over her and covered her lips with his. He felt the burning and searing of her kiss as he buried himself in her, his climax rolling over him in successively intense waves. It went on and on, longer and more intense than anything he had ever experienced before. Finally, he lay panting and spent on her breast, filled with awe and wonder.
A voice from somewhere inside him commended him on his patriotism and his fine duty to his country. It sounded sarcastic. A voice from somewhere outside him, without a trace of sarcasm, commended him on his performance as a teacher.
“That was, it was—”
“Too short,” Ian interrupted.
“I’m sorry, next time I will try to do better.”
“If you do better next time it will be even shorter. It is something we will have to practice.” Ian slowly withdrew himself, despite Bianca’s complaints, and raised himself on one elbow to study her. He was testing to see whether his immunity to her charms had developed yet. He forced himself to study her magical, keen eyes, her perfect nose, the arc of her eyebrows, her long glossy lashes, her lips parted for another kiss, the way the stone snuggled perfectly between her two breasts. He found he could not satiate his longing to simply look at her, to wonder at her. Her hand had again strayed between his thighs and was easily teasing his spent organ into readiness. No, his immunity was decidedly not yet in place.
“What are you doing?” Ian demanded finally, trying to reassert his authority as the authority.
“I thought we were going to practice.” Her eyes were innocent, but the smile playing on her lips told Ian she had already learned several of the finer lessons of intimacy between men and women. “Besides, that time I did not get the feeling of tingling, spiraling heat in my stomach, so I want to try it again. Certainly there is more for you to teach me. I want to learn all about your body. What happens if I do this?” She trailed her fingers up his inner thighs to the small soft sac below his organ.
Ian moaned with distraught pleasure and moved her hand from his beleaguered shaft. If he was to have time to recover, he would have to distract her. Always clear-headed under pressure, he dragged his eyes from her face and went to work. He began by kissing her, first on the nape of the neck, then trailing down her breasts, some kisses harder, some softer, along her ribs, across her stomach, lingering on her adorable birthmark, and coming to rest at the sensitive point between her thighs.
“What are you…ohhhhhh,” was all she managed to say as Ian began flicking her tender nub with his tongue. She arched herself toward him, willing him to engulf her, but he responded only with the lightest and most tender of touches until she sang out, “Oh, please, please, Ian.” He raked his teeth over her, ever so gently, and then drank her in, sucking her completely into his mouth. He sucked first softly and then harder, constantly moving his tongue over her. Its bumpy surface skated lightly over her slick little nub, rubbing more aggressively against it as she kept arching higher toward him, demanding that he take her more, harder, deeper. This was a totally different sensation from the other she had experienced, intoxicating and breathtaking, shaking Bianca to her very toes. She wantonly pushed herself into his mouth, reveling in the warm wetness, the texture of his tongue resting on her sensitive place, the feel of his teeth grazing over her, the sensation of his lips on her, the softness of his hair against her thigh, the vision of his golden head between her legs, his warm hands on her backside drawing her deeper into him, until she could stand it no more and her pleasure exploded in a glittering, overwhelming, trembling climax.
This time there could be no doubt about the words she spoke. “Oh, Ian,” she said, and repeated it, over and over, until he hugged her tight to his chest.
The clock was striking four when Ian carried Bianca, naked, to her room. She had finally fallen asleep a half hour earlier, after demanding feats of sensual prowess he would not have thought himself capable of the day before and which he was sure he accomplished only through his deep sense of patriotic duty. But what could explain his need to watch her as she slept, as fascinated by her beauty as by the way she instinctively adjusted her body to coil around his when he moved.
She had not been alone in her maiden voyage, for the lovemaking they had shared was as unfamiliar to Ian as it was to her. She was definitely the most curious, adventurous lover he had ever entertained, but it was something more than that. The way she gave herself to him, with generosity and blind trust, made Ian feel he had been made the custodian of a rare and precious treasure. He looked down at the burden in his arms, at the large gem still dangling between her breasts, and felt a curious sense of pride, well-being, and satisfaction. He ignored the voice inside his head telling him what a fool he was, reminding him of the duplicity of women, especially this woman, and of his own shortcomings. He wanted to savor this strangely pleasurable moment, to preserve it, safe and untainted by doubt.
He nudged the covers of her bed away and gently set Bianca down on the soft mattress. He tried to unentwine her fingers from his arm but was distracted in his work by the vision of her there, her hair spread over the deep blue pillow, her chest rising and falling with her even breathing, the Foscari topaz still framed by her breasts. If she did not want to let go of his arm, he thought to himself, who was he to argue? Besides, he reasoned, intent on staying cool-headed, the more she came to depend on him, the closer she got to him, the more easily he could manipulate her. Feeling that he was going above and beyond the call of duty to the last, he climbed into the bed beside her. Her body was curled snugly around him as soon as he was settled, and before he could think any more patriotic or even unpatriotic thoughts, he had fallen into a deep and well-earned sleep.
Bianca’s first notion was that Ian’s voice had changed overnight and his hands had gotten smaller. Her second thought was that the callused little palm shaking her shoulder certainly was not the same hand that had given her hours of pleasure earlier. Her third thought was that she had made the whole thing up. With that, her eyes sprung open, only to be confronted with the welcome sight of Ian’s muscled chest in front of her. Before she could close them aga
in with relief, the small voice spoke again, from behind her. Turning, she saw the less welcome sight of Nilo standing tensely by her bed.
She was momentarily embarrassed to be found naked, in bed, with a man, but remembering where Nilo grew up and the occupation of his guardian, she felt sure he had seen many worse things. Embarrassment gave way to concern when she noted the expression on his face.
“Mistress, mistress, you must come with me at once!” he whispered without waiting for her to speak. “It’s my aunt Marina, she is bleeding again, like the last time you saved her but worse, and the baby won’t come. Oh, mistress, please, you must help me.”
Bianca did not waste time on questions. “Run up to my laboratory and get the black case,” she ordered. “I will dress and meet you at the gondola.”
As soon as the boy had left the room, Bianca rose and pulled on the simple dress she always wore when she made her professional calls. She turned to see if Nilo’s disturbance had roused Ian, but he was still plunged deep in sleep, his face peaceful and beautiful in the dawn light. She became aware of the Foscari topaz dangling between her breasts under her dress, and toyed with the idea of keeping it near her until she remembered the rather large danger of robbery in the arsenal. Leaving it and a hastily penned note of explanation on her dressing table, she kissed Ian on the cheek, whispered, “grazie,” in his ear, donned her warmest cloak, and went in search of Nilo.
She found him anxiously awaiting her arrival at the water gate of the palace, having already roused Ian’s night gondoliers. As soon as Bianca was installed inside the covered cabin of the gondola, they set out, Nilo barking at the gondoliers to go as fast as possible, the boatmen muttering to each other about bossy squirts and what they had coming to them.